30 days of Malec
by flutterby cupcake
Summary: 30 day OTP challenge: hands, elements, books and artefacts, dreams, a kiss, costume/character swap, weapons and armour, sins, virtues, monsters, post-apocalypse, a spell, costumes, gender swap, canon-based wildcard, rituals, a special occasion, working together, mythical creatures, horror, steampunk, sci-fi/fantasy, fighting, tending to wounds, death, redemption, a long journey ...
1. Chapter 1

**This is my attempt at the 30 day OTP challenge. My friend and I are doing this, though she doesn't post on** **fanfiction. It's my first time writing Malec, though I love them to bits, so please go easy on me! I haven't yet read Shadowhunters Academy, so this will focus more on the main six books, with a possibility of visiting the Infernal Devices on some elements of the challenge. Happy reading!**

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 **HANDS**

Alec was always enthralled with Magnus' hands.

It had something to do with him being a warlock. It must do.

They moved with a grace of their own, his long, delicate fingers twisting and almost dancing as Magnus conjured the blue sparks of his magic.

They moved in the same way as they grazed across Alec's skin, with a hint of hesitation that wasn't present in the way Magnus controlled his magic. He was always tentative with Alec, worried that he would cross the line, push too far. Though it was Alec who felt like he was always pushing for something with Magnus.

Those magic fingers felt like Heaven, even if they only just brushed against the back of Alec's knuckles.

One morning, when Alec and Magnus were lazing in Magnus' loft, sultry music playing softly in the background, martini glasses in hand despite the early hour, Magnus began a conversation. Chairman Meow had just settled on Alec's lap, and he was stroking through his fluffy coat absent-mindedly with his free hand.

"You have a wonderful touch, Alexander. Chairman Meow doesn't tolerate many people." Magnus sat forward. "Although, I have to agree, your touch is a magic unto itself."

If Alec were the type of person to blush, those comments would have made him blush. He focused more on the cat on his lap as Magnus crossed the room to join them. He took the martini glass out of Alec's grip, and began caressing his fingers softly. Alec's focus was now entirely on the magic that Magnus was casting, though there was no blue hue to his fingertips this time.

"Your hands tell a story. Every scar, every callous, even the runes. It's strange to have your hands tell so much when you're still so young."

Alec hated the issue of their age, of all the lives that Magnus had already had.

"And it's strange that your hands show no signs of your story, no hint of your age."

"I'm only three hundred, Alexander." Magnus teased him. Last week he had been seven hundred. The week before, two hundred. Magnus' age seemed to alter with his mood. "And my hands are well equipped to tell you my age. It's just not there physically."

He waved his hand, fingers curling into the palm from his pinky to his forefinger, and those blue sparks appeared, showing a younger Magnus, his cat eyes wide with wonder. The image quickly dissolved, and Magnus took a sip of his cocktail.

"You know," he sounded conversational, with a teasing lilt to his voice. "It's been a while since I've felt those hands on me."

"It's been maybe twelve hours, Magnus."

"Hmm, twelve hours too long. Let's leave Chairman Meow and you can try to find my story on the rest of my body with those big, strong, warrior hands."

Magnus wound their fingers together, and Alec allowed him to lead the way into his bedroom.


	2. Elements

**ELEMENTS**

Magnus was fire. He was intense, he burned with passion. He smouldered when calm and blazed when angered. But he could never fully be put out.

His fire ignited under certain circumstances. When Shadowhunters took too much for granted, when people didn't pay attention to the accords. When he was dragged into others arguments and forced to decide between Shadowhunters and Downworlders as though he had a special status that broached both. As though the Clave forgot that as a warlock Magnus was most definitely a Downworlder.

The thing that stirred the flames the most, however, was of course Alec. The man who made his veins sing with fire, who gave oxygen to his magic and helped Magnus raze their enemies.

But Alec wasn't fire. Alec was air. He was the cool and calm with a clear head. He was measured and thoughtful and weighed all options before making a decision, though he thought so quickly it still seemed like an impulse if you didn't know him well. Alec moved like the wind, light and graceful but bringing force when force was needed. He could be a tornado of action, rippling sinew and muscle, or else he could be calm, allowing the sun to shine and heat the world.

They fed into each other, fire and air, lending strength to each other the same way that Alec and Jace did through their Parabatai bond. Or perhaps not quite the same way, because as Parabatai they merely complimented each other. Magnus and Alec almost consumed each other, became separate parts of a whole rather than two wholes coming together.

Magnus knew, however, that at some point, the oxygen would run out. And when it did, and Alec was gone, he wasn't sure he would burn on without him.


	3. Books and Artefacts

One of the benefits of dating a centuries-old Warlock was the access to incredible magic that Magnus had. Not that Alec was the kind of person to take advantage of someone else, and not that he was fascinated by the power of magic either. Magnus' knowledge and possessions came to the rescue more than Alec would have thought he needed. Be it a strengthening draught after battle, or looking up spells to heal any one of the New York Institute's Shadowhunters after coming up against demons. Even when Magnus changed the decor on a whim - at least twice a week - the books and potions and other trinkets remained.

If Alec couldn't sleep, sometimes he would sit up in the living room, or out on the fire escape, and read from one of Magnus' books. The most potent books were always out of sight, and Alec had a sneaking suspicion that Magnus knew he would read instead of sleep as there was always a cycle of magical theory books - and the occasional fictional title - left out on the coffee table, or bookshelf, or side table … all of them seemingly carelessly tossed there, all of them interesting to Alec. Magnus was a private person, and Alec liked being able to see this side of his boyfriend, it felt like there was some trust there. And then Alec could begin to build on the rest.

There was something calming about sitting quietly above the bustle of Brooklyn, leafing through ancient texts, with their handwritten notes and detailed annotations. Alec felt like it made him a better Shadowhunter, learning this extra material, as well as a better boyfriend when it came to understanding Magnus.

There was one morning, where he had been leafing through a less-than-enthralling tome on magical plant properties since around three in the morning, that he smelled coffee brewing in Magnus' cappuccino machine. He closed the book and headed back into the apartment from the fire escape. Magnus wasn't by the machine, as he had expected, but was holding Alec's bow with his elegant fingers, examining it with his golden cat eyes close to the string. Alec leaned against the doorway and folded his arms, tucking the book in the crook of his elbow and just watching Magnus. The warlock didn't look up from the bow, and Alec rested his head against the doorframe, watching quietly.

"I hope you didn't try and hide your presence in the doorway with runes." Magnus mused, and turned the bow over.

"Why would I do that? How's the bow?"

"Exquisitely crafted. I've always wanted to look at it, feel the weight of it. It always seems like an extension of you."

Alec did prefer to fight with bow and arrow, it was true. He could load and aim an arrow in the blink of an eye. He rarely missed.

"Besides," Magnus put the bow down gently and turned around, even that small gesture being made with his usual flair, looking almost like a pirouette. "You're learning about being a warlock."

Alec looked down at the book in his arms, and then smiled sheepishly at Magnus.

"Well, you do have an unfair advantage, knowing so many Shadowhunters in the last five hundred years."

"I'm only a hundred and seventy five." Magnus said breezily. Alec smiled coyly.

"So, in the scheme of things, you're as young a warlock as I am a Shadowhunter?"

Magnus returned the smirk, making it seem suggestive. Alec had caught him out and he knew it.

"I could show you where I have some experience?"

Alec shook his head, fondly exasperated.

"You're a hopeless flirt."

"I'd say more shameless. Hopeless implies you don't reciprocate."

Magnus approached him, and removed the book from his arms. Alec allowed it, and stroked a hand down Magnus' face tenderly as his warlock boyfriend reached up to kiss him. Beyond books and equipment and talking, this was how Alec and Magnus learned the most about each other, through the way they came together and felt like two halves of one whole.


	4. Dreams

Alec was not a sentimental man. He could easily be mistaken for sentimental due to his quiet and serious nature, but he liked life to be simple, to be on face value. He wasn't extravagant or flamboyant like most people would suppose a gay man would be.

His sister, Isabelle, would often comment on Alec's simple life. On how he had worn the same three sweaters for the last five years. How he lived for training and missions. How even his bond with Jace was compartmentalised into the box of warrior in Alec's mind.

So when he met Magnus, it felt like a dream. He's met other warlocks before, and hated their attitudes, their demands for a debt to be repaid on their terms and always disproportionate to the service provided. To be confronted with a man whose only warlock mark was his unique cat-like eyes, half-hidden under the glittering eyeliner he wore, whose outfit screamed for everyone to pay attention to him, and to have his laser focus settle on Alec? He must have been dreaming. Was his imagination that good? His dreams had never been that vivid.

And yet Magnus made sure he had a drink in his hand, and despite the issues of Clary's mundane friend turning into a rat and that debacle with the vampires and werewolves, he remained close to Alec, who felt so out of his depth at Magnus' downworlder party, surrounded by creatures who would hate every rune on his body.

It felt like a dream that first time they brushed against each other, the looks that they traded where Alec tried to work out what Magnus wanted and Magnus made it clear where his thoughts were going. To have Magnus work out that Alec wasn't straight like a shadowhunter was meant to be when his own family didn't realise, when Jace still hadn't worked it out … Magnus felt made up. Like a surprise helping hand when you were feeling at your weakest.

Would Alec really have imagined such a vivacious person to recognise those hidden parts of himself? Was that what he needed to unlock that sentimental compartment he didn't even realise he had? He didn't think he could, and yet Magnus was just too good to be true.

Alec had slipped out of the institute before anyone could question where he was going so late and headed to the bar he thought Magnus had asked him to go to. If Magnus didn't exist, at least Alec could know he had imagined him, and if he did? Well, then Alec was about to have his first ever date.

The bar was busy, and Alec nearly walked right back out again, until a man at the bar turned, his gaze immediately seeking Alec. Those catlike eyes, that sparkling eyeliner, the scarf and blazer ensemble, the many rings on his fingers as he clasped a cocktail glass … no, Alec hadn't been dreaming. He smiled nervously, and approached the bar.


	5. A kiss

Magnus had kissed countless people in the three centuries he had existed on this planet. Some mundanes, some vampires and werewolves, even some nephilim. He prided himself on being a connoisseur of mouth-on-mouth contact.

There were a lot of variables that made a kiss good. The right amount of pressure was essential. To firm and you could hurt your partner, too soft and they wouldn't know it had happened. Some moisture was good, but not too much. Who wanted a mouth full of other people's spit? Breath was an essential element, it had to be neutral, or else menthol. Anything else was rather disgusting.

Teeth were okay in the right circumstances. A nibbled lip was always welcome. The pressure thing applied there too, too heavy and it was unpleasant, too soft and there would be no point. But no tongue biting, that was rarely a turn on. Camille had often accidentally slipped and pierced Magnus' tongue with her incisors, and he still wasn't sure he had recovered.

Tongues were the main key to a good kiss. You wanted some tongue, enough to get the endorphins raised and the oxytocin pumping, but not so much that you felt like you were swallowing someone else's tongue. Technique was important too. Washing machine cycles were out, same as someone jabbing their tongue in and out of your mouth like a jackhammer. It was distracting and unpleasant. Tongues were like dancers, you had to make it work, take turns to do moves and enjoy every moment, throw your whole body into it.

Most people weren't great at kissing. That was okay, Magnus enjoyed teaching them. Mostly. But a few people were good at it, often those people with almost as much experience as Magnus had.

When Magnus and Alec first started dating, and Alec admitted that Magnus was his first … well … everything, he was fully prepared to be a great teacher. To train Alec on amazing kisses and mind blowing sex - eventually - and enjoy every second of doing so. To go at Alec's pace but be so amazing at every touch and taste that Alec's pace would speed up.

He hadn't expected for Alec to be such a natural. They fit together so perfectly, Alec seemed to anticipate everything that Magnus would enjoy, he seemed to just know where to place his hands, how to use his tongue, the best way to breathe so that they would never separate. It was so hard to believe that Alec had never kissed anyone before. Maybe it was fanciful thinking on Magnus' behalf, but it only served to make him believe that they were meant to be. He wanted to make Alec dance, to see if they blended well on the dance floor, he wanted to take him to bed and see how they fit there.

Alec's kisses told Magnus what he was like as a fighter. That he was measured, took the time to read the situation. That he was in control, and confident, but that he never lost his compassion for others as he righted the wrongs of the world. And he knew this because he could taste it in each and every kiss.


End file.
